


How It Happened

by Entwife_Incognito



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Living Together, Masturbation, Romance, Sexual Tension, smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 15:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8290744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwife_Incognito/pseuds/Entwife_Incognito
Summary: Easy summer story with a familiar, comfortable plot, just my interpretation of it. Jane needs Lisbon's extra care and how it draws them together. RJ is dead. Six chapters. Disclaimer: I don't own anything about The Mentalist.This fic is a transfer from FFnet posted August 28, 2013. Now here, with refining edits to correct a continuity problem and improve readability.





	1. Chapter 1

_Butterflies floated over wildflowers waving in the meadow. Birdcall, loud and frantic, filtered from trees down on the south end, a screeching dispute that carried over the song from unknown others on the wing or calling from the cover of the trees. The orange ball of the sun brought everything to life under its glow in the pleasant heat. She wandered barefoot, picking flowers and adding them to the loose bundle that lay in the scoop of her upraised dress, a perfect basket. Their light perfume freshened the trail she blazed, the grass soft underfoot making her feet spring up as she skipped to a flower in the distance, glowing with her favorite color – purple! Long, dark hair, full and wavy, bounced down her back and brushed her slender freckled arms, a beautiful foil for her big green eyes, rimmed around with long dark lashes._  


_A sweet-natured, loving little girl, she had not a care in the world. Mommy and daddy loved them so much, even her three bratty little brothers, even her crabby baby brother who cried all the time. She was the big girl and helped with everything, even the stinky diapers! Mommy said she could change a diaper as good as her!_  


_The fighting birds screeched louder in the distance, but soon their voices sounded closer. When she looked up, they flew over her head, attacking one another on the wing. The drab, smaller one fell into the grass at her feet. Daddy told her the drab ones were the lady birds. This one lay with a wing bent funny and its mouth opening and closing silently as if it was trying to catch its breath. She bent to straighten its wing, but it panicked, flopping around and crying out as if her touch hurt._  


_Dropping her bundle of flowers, she carefully scooped the injured lady bird into the skirt of her dress in their place. The bird was quiet, its eyes shut, but opening its mouth feebly from time to time to show its sharp yellow tongue. She had to bring it to Daddy! He would know what to do. She ran as fast as her petite frame could carry her, opening the screen door at the back of the house, crying, "Daddy! Daddy! Come quick!" It was dark in the house and it smelled funny. Daddy looked at her mean from his big armchair with the bottles and glasses all around._  


_"Why are you making such a racquet, Teresa! Shut up! You'll raise the dead! Shut the hell up, or you'll wish you did!"_  


_She'd tried. She'd tried to save the lady bird. But Daddy wouldn't help. It wasn't her fault the bird died. Running to the room with her dead companion, the little girl laid its body inside her door and threw herself onto her bed sobbing for her mommy. But Mommy was gone. She had left them and was never coming back. The baby's screams sounded from up the hall. He was probably hungry and she knew how to fix his bottle. Daddy didn't . . ._  


Alarm clock screaming into her ear, Teresa Lisbon jolted awake, her limbs trying to fly from her body. Thank God! She was in the middle of that terrible dream again. The one she could never quite remember except for being a little girl. She felt it grow darker and darker until the sun was gone and she was lost in something thick and impenetrable, alone and no one to help, not even her parents.  


Wiping her eyes, she sat up, her jersey sticking to her back. She had sweat through to her sheets again. Why was that dream coming back? It had been gone for years, really since she had gained recognition in her career, her competence recognized by everyone. But ever since the death of Red John, it had returned, destroying her rest at least three times a week. Everything should be settling down without that threat. Instead, she felt more unsettled than ever.  


So, she'd have to take another shower this morning. She usually showered at night-the freshness helped her to fall sleep-but if this kept up she'd have to change that part of her routine.  


As early as Lisbon arrived to her agency office, Patrick Jane was already ensconced on his bullpen couch, his back to the world. She peered over him to see if he was really asleep. A twitching smirky smile was followed by a series of soft sniffs.  


"Lisbon? You showered this morning? That's the third time this week. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were doing something dirty at night that required a shower before work. Am I wrong?" He was fairly sure this was not true, but the possibility unsettled him nonetheless.  


"Ha ha, Jane. I'll never tell."  


Jane relaxed, snuggling back into a napping posture. She would never have pretended there was anything to his remarks if she really was doing something dirty with her nights.  


Lisbon watched his ass wiggle as he got comfortable, settling in for a nap. If only he knew how often she fantasized that it was bare and she could just sit in a nearby chair and watch that set of fleshy cheeks like a late-night movie.  


"Do you need something, Lisbon?"  


"Go to sleep, Jane. We'll wake you if anything happens." Better he was napping than up and restless, bored with nothing to do. He'd be bugging the hell out of her.  


Stopping by the break room to grab a coffee, she settled into her office to handle some of the mundane bureaucratic aspects of her job. She left the door open. Returning after a bathroom break a couple of hours later, she wasn't surprised to look over her shoulder to find that the footfalls behind her were Jane's. He followed her in and took one of the chairs in front of her desk.  


"What? You're through napping? Or are you just changing locations?" She glanced meaningfully at her own couch and arched her eyebrows at him, smirking.  


"Tea." He held up his cup and saucer, wafted the steam and the comforting aroma toward her with his free hand and then took a sip. Jane knew that she secretly liked to have him on her couch, accessible, comforting, an amusement. They were dancing around way too many secret things between them. It was getting tiresome. And it wasn't necessary anymore. Red John had been dead six months. It was time to move on. He had been sleeping through the night regularly for a long time. Lisbon seemed to be sleep-deprived and it saddened him that she would be so disturbed, anxious that he didn't know the source of it.  


Agent Rigsby leaned through the doorway. "Hey, Boss. We're up."  


It was a love triangle gone bad. The wife had flipped, killed the husband and had the girlfriend as hostage in the living room, still waving a gun. She had shot the other woman in the shoulder and threatened to go for the head next. The team managed to talk their way into the house with her. Just when they thought the situation would be diffused, the woman slipped out the front door, brandishing her gun. Patrick Jane was at the top of the wide porch stairs, peering into the screen door. When the shooter ran out, she knocked him down the full flight before she was shot to pieces on the front lawn. In one sense, Jane was lucky to have landed on the ground and narrowly missed being shot himself. That sense of perspective was lost at the moment as he lay with his leg twisted at an odd angle in the risers.  


Lisbon stormed down the steps, looming over him. "Christ, Jane! What does it take for you to learn to stay out of the way until everything is clear!" She looked at his pale, clammy face. Why was he still sprawled on the ground?  


"What the hell is wrong with you? Get up!" His right leg seemed to be twisted, but she couldn't see anything in the dark under the stairs. He was breathing hard and grabbing at his leg.  


"Lisbon!" he said, his voice raspy and low. Then he threw up on her boots and passed out.  


"Shit! Hey! We need the paramedics over here! Now!"  


Apparently floating through the air, Jane regained consciousness on his back to the sounds of metallic clicking and clamping and was then rolled bumpily to the back of a large open vehicle. He couldn't move his arms and didn't want to move his legs. Lisbon was at his side, looking both worried and pissed off, but mostly worried. His right leg hurt like hell, sending blades of pain that traveled up his side and straight into his brain. "God damn it! Stop jostling my leg! There's something wrong with it!" He realized now that he was on a gurney and being loaded into an ambulance. Lisbon slipped inside with him. "What the hell, Lisbon? What's going on?"  


"You passed out, Jane. It looks like your lower right leg may be broken. It's been immobilized, so don't try to move it. You're okay, but we're taking you to the hospital."  


"I thought you guys had everything under control," he said accusingly, trying to deflect the blame away from himself even though he knew he shouldn't have been on that porch.  


Lisbon's face went stern and still, taking a breath before she spoke, reminding herself it was to an injured colleague. "Yeah. Let me tell you how it works, Jane." Her voice got louder. "You fucking don't think anything until I tell you it's all clear for you to think! Got it? Damn it, Jane, you never listen. Well, you're paying for it now."  


He stuck out his lower lip and pouted. "Well, I'm glad you're getting your satisfaction, Lisbon. You've waited a long time." He knew that half of her irritation with him was fright and concern because she cared about him, but it didn't matter to him right then.  


"Just shut up and lie still. You gave us all a hell of a fright. You could have been shot, you idiot!"  


Jane began muttering at her treatment of him. "Broken leg . . . crazy woman (he looked at Lisbon when he rumbled this to be sure she knew he wasn't talking about her) . . . swearing at me . . . trying to help . . . calling me names . . . oh, my leg! It's killing me! Lisbon!"  


She rolled her eyes and patted his arm. Big baby. "You throw up on my boots again and you won't need a hospital anymore. We can take you straight to the morgue. Now settle down. You'll be fine."  


The hospital was a horrible experience. Jane screamed and yelled, swore at the nurses and warned the doctors not to come near him. Lisbon calmly watched and suggested a tranquilizer dart gun. Jane's eyes reproached her for that betrayal while the nurses behind him covered their mouths to keep from laughing out loud. They needed to sedate him to set his leg. Most patients didn't need much for a simple closed fracture; this guy needed to be knocked out.  


Smirking in the background at such an infantile show, Lisbon realized Jane was really alone in the world and needed to feel that someone was in his corner looking out for him. Besides, she had an idea for helping the nurses sedate him. She walked up to him, smiling, and began to smooth back his sweaty curls, laying her cool hand on his forehead, looking into his panicky face. She patted his arm. He looked in her eyes with genuine relief. Suddenly, his brow knit together in pain and his wide pouty lips opened in surprise. His eyes began to swim and he passed out, giving Lisbon a last accusing glare. The nurse mouthed a thank you and they got down to the task of setting Jane's leg.  


He was still woozy when it was finally time to leave the hospital. The cast went above his knee. She would have to drive him home. Even pulling the passenger seat back all the way, Lisbon had difficulty assisting him into her car. His leg throbbed under the cast and he complained at having to move it. "Well, I don't know levitation, Jane. If you do, now's the time to put it to use!"  


Shooting her a sour look, he quieted in submission. In the end, she had to take hold of the cast and manhandle it into place. His coordination was still too impaired from the sedation, and now painkillers, to be of much assistance except to whine or yelp. "You're hurting me!"  


"I WILL hurt you, Jane. Keep it up and I'll show you what real pain is." Oh my God. Was that a tear running down his face? She hadn't meant to really hurt him. He must've been worse off than she thought. It was so hard to tell with all the dramatics she'd witnessed today.  


"I'm sorry. Really."  


Jane looked woefully into her eyes and saw her sincerity. He nodded.  


She pushed his curls back again, extra gently, even tenderly, fingering some to wrap her finger. Such beautiful hair. "I didn't mean to hurt you. It's okay now. You're all tucked into the car and we can go now." She hugged him lightly, stopped herself from kissing the side of his head and made sure he was belted in.  


She had already started for Jane's place when she decided there was no way he could go home. In real pain, doped up and trying to get around? He'd end up hurting himself. He'd be calling her all times of the day and night for the help he needed. She made a turn at the next light that would take them to her condo instead. That man was going to drive her completely nuts one day. None of the fake chair through the window stuff. Pure ape-shit crazy.


	2. Chapter 2

Mercifully, Jane fell asleep and remained quiet until they stopped in Lisbon's parking lot. She opened his door and shook his shoulder, waking him. His crutches were in the back seat, but he had no experience using them. Gripping his arm above the elbow and reaching her other hand under his arm on the far side, she pulled to haul him out of the car as he shoved with his good foot. When he finally stood, she wrapped his long arm around the small frame of her shoulders. "Come on, Jane. Help us out a little and walk. You can lean on me for balance, but I can't take your full weight or carry you."  


"It hurts, Lisbon." He looked down at his cast, wincing between huffs of pain as he tried to get on his feet.  


"I know. We'll get some more pain medicine down you in a minute. Just lean on me, okay, hon?" Her soothing endearment was automatic and she didn't even note it. "Just a few steps. We'll take it nice and slow, and we'll be inside in no time, huh?"  


Jane tried to hop on his good leg, swinging the cast awkwardly, knocking Lisbon and compromising her balance. "No! Jane! You're gonna take us both down. Now use that cast, that's what the rubber peg on the bottom is made for." She saw his face screw up in protest. "Don't be a baby!" He really did need to suck it up or they'd never get through the ordeal ahead.  


"You try having a broken leg, Lisbon!" That bottom lip was out again.  


"Hey! I got shot. Try that on, Buttercup!" She tried to remind herself that Patrick Jane was not a tough cop. He was a consultant. His first priority wasn't to suck it up. And besides, he'd had enough pain to suck up in his life already. Lisbon sighed and tried to be encouraging as Jane muttered against her most recent maltreatment of him. "Yeah, I know. I'm a mean old b- Walk, Jane, or I'm going to leave you in this parking lot!"  


The walk to her door may as well have been from Canada, it took so long. Lisbon let all the grousing and complaining go with a resigned sigh, concentrating instead on getting him in the door and seated in a kitchen chair. She went out to the car again to bring in his crutches. "Independence!" she called, and made a show of featuring them, a gawping TV salesman smile on her face. She didn't push it further when she saw his exhaustion, although she was sure she couldn't look any better. She decided they needed to eat.  


Staying on Jane until he finished half a sandwich and drank a glass of milk, her mind had been racing to organize just how they would get through the night. He reeked of sweat-stink and would need to get cleaned up. That could be awkward. He couldn't sleep on the couch. It was too low and did not offer enough room or support to maneuver up and down until he learned how to use his crutches. The guest room was actually an extra, rather crowded and disorderly, storage closet. The little bathroom was the same and, in any case, would be too restrictive for him to maneuver with a cast, much less crutches. Maybe she could get the guest room in order tomorrow. That really only left her bed. She would take the couch.  


"Bathroom sink or kitchen sink?"  


"Huh?"  


"You need a wash. I'll help you as much as I can, but you'll need to figure out the rest yourself." She looked at him meaningfully and enjoyed the light pink blush that bloomed on his cheeks.  


"Oh. Kitchen would be easier, I guess. Does it have to be now? I'm awfully tired."  


"Yes, I'm afraid so. You're going to have to take my bed and I'd like you a little cleaner before you get in it. And a wash will make you feel better."  


"Picky, picky." But he winked at her. Aside from the pain lines in his face, he seemed to be coming back to himself. He looked at the sofa and then at the crutches that leaned against the counter and then at his cast. Nodding, he said, "Best plan." Then he looked at her. "I'm sorry for all the trouble and inconvenience, Lisbon."  


"I know, Jane. It's not your fault. We'll get through it. You'll see."  


Laying towels on the floor at the kitchen sink, Lisbon set a kitchen chair there and left Jane with what she thought he would need, then headed for the bathroom shower herself. "I'll check on you in a few minutes. If you get into trouble, just sit down and wait."  


"Okay. Thank you. For seeing after me."  


She cocked her head and looked at him with a small smile. "Of course, Jane. That's what partners do."  


When she returned in her robe and slippers, Lisbon paused and knocked on the wall before she rounded the corner to the kitchen. "You decent?"  


"Pretty much. Considering I have no clothes. But I'm covered."  


"With what?"  


"A towel. You can come in."  


He was standing, his weight mostly on his good leg, looking very uncomfortable. A towel was tucked around his waist and she tried to avoid looking at the contours that she was the most curious about. Instead she brought his crutches and handed him one.  


"Here. Tuck this under your good arm. It'll make it easier to stand. You can put your weight on it instead of your good leg."  


He actually breathed a sigh of relief when he had done as she suggested.  


His back was big and smooth with a very nice curve at the base. The torso on the man was stunning, broad and sleekly muscular, two lines of it defining the path to his groin as they disappeared beneath the edge of the towel. She loved those lines on a man, loved to trace them with a fingertip, watch the belly writhe and what was below, rise. Lisbon broke her gaze. That was too much looking. Jane appeared not to have noticed, struggling with the crutch and now washing out a pair of raggedy-looking underwear.  


"I had to split the seam to get them off."  


Lisbon nodded.  


"I couldn't get my back."  


"Okay. I'll get it for you." She steeled herself into a sisterly, clinical mode and, soaping a damp facecloth, started washing his back.  


"Stoop down a little. I can't get all the way to the top."  


When he bent his knee, he stuck his bottom out a bit, bumped her belly with it and she stepped to the side a little. He felt wonderful under her hand, sleek muscle and heavy bone under a velvety skin. It was taking too much of her attention and she coped by finishing as quickly as she could and talking until she did.  


"We'll get some clothes together for you tomorrow. You're going to need to be on pain medication for a few days, so you'd best stay here. In fact, you're past due for a pill now. You're back's done." She dried him off, then went to get his prescription from her purse. "Here. One every four to six hours."  


He popped the pill into his mouth and drank from the faucet to wash it down. Then he squeezed out his undies and draped them across the sink to dry.  


"I couldn't get my feet either." He looked at her blandly, but pulled a corner of his mouth down, acknowledging that he was a pain in the ass.  


"Oh. Okay. Sit down, they'll only take a minute." She soaped up a cloth, squatted and lifted his good foot. It was large and had a blocky pleasing shape, milky white skin with beautiful toes in a nice neat line. Lisbon was sure she had not seen such beautiful feet on a man before. They complemented his gorgeous, graceful and large masculine hands. Those she had noticed, many times. His feet seemed to be very sensitive, her ministrations frequently causing his foot to tug her hand as he shifted in his chair.  


"Your feet ticklish, Jane?" She'd remember that in case she needed to get him back for any number of obstinacies she knew would surface.  


He watched her pat them dry, his hands resting over his towel-covered genitals, hoping she wouldn't notice his semi-aroused condition. Yes, his feet were very sensitive. Just not ticklish. "Something like that," was all he said.  


"Okay. Let's get you into bed before that medication takes effect. Use your crutches. You need to practice." She handed him the other one.  


"I need the bathroom."  


"Of course. This way." She trailed him, spotting for any signs that he might stumble.  


Lisbon turned down the bed while he was in the bathroom. He emerged clumsily on his crutches and she swept her arm towards the bed while staying out of his way. At the bed, he tangled the crutches in his legs and went nearly to the ground. He hit hard enough to make a woofing sound as the air was forced from his lungs.  


"Jesus, Jane! Are you all right? Are you hurt?"  


"No. No. Just my pride."  


She steadied an arm as he struggled to his feet.  


"The towel, Lisbon! The towel's going to go!" He dropped one crutch to grab his towel at the front and hold it together, struggling with the restrictions that the other crutch placed on the movement of his arm.  


"Here. I'll get it for you, Jane. Don't worry."  


Very efficiently, and maintaining his modesty, she pulled the ends of his towel in place and tucked them tight. "See? All good."  


Jane could imagine her taking care of her little brothers this way. "Poor Lisbon. Poor, good Lisbon." He started to reach a hand to caress her face, but she saw the movement and dodged gracefully.  


"Not at all. No. I'm happy to look after you. No 'poor' about it. Okay?" She stepped back from him. "Now get in bed and we'll get you covered up and we can both get some rest."  


She helped him lift the cast onto the mattress, set a couple pillows underneath to elevate it and pulled the covers over him, careful not to look up the split skirt of his towel as she was tempted. His arms fiddled with something under the covers and he managed to lift his hips enough to pull the towel out and lay it on the floor where he could find it easily later.  


"It's too rough to sleep on, Lisbon."  


She laughed. "Okay, Princess, we don't want a little pea to aggravate your tender tush." Her eyes sparkled at him and he smiled woozily at the tease. The painkillers were kicking in.  


"Good night, then. Thank you. Teresa."  


She turned on the bathroom light and pulled the door to minimize the glare, and then left the room.  


Practically collapsing on the couch, Lisbon didn't try to process all the events of the day. But some of them came to her in dreams, Jane a new presence in the tenderness he evoked from her. Deep in her unknown subconscious, she spent a lot of time touching his skin and petting the delicate bones of his feet. Then he abruptly stood up, said, "I'm leaving," and disappeared. She woke up sweaty, as if she'd had the dream about the lady bird. Great. Now her subconscious had two nightmares to choose from to ruin her sleep.  


Even the small routine they had established the night before helped in the morning. Lisbon brought his dry shorts, but they wouldn't do their job. Being short, tailored and modern, splitting the side seam offered no corralling of the equipment at all, and Jane complained that "everything was hanging out." Lisbon did her best to let this image go. She doubted that his trouser legs would go over the cast either. He would have to wear different slacks under that vest and suit coat. Until then he'd have to choose the towel or the floppy boxers until she returned from his motel room with whatever he had that looked usable.  


Jane gave her a list of his sizes and she measured the circumference of the cast in a couple places. Then she called Cho and Rigsby to help with completing the parts of his wardrobe that could not be had from his own closet. Oversized socks would be used to cover his foot over the peg at the bottom of his cast. They'd wear through quickly, but that was no matter. Jane considered the arrangement and decided he would cut a slot for the peg. That way, the cast wouldn't slip on the floor when he wore the sock.  


After being treated to just how much Jane's ripped boxers revealed as he lay in a drugged sleep on the couch, Lisbon asked him about underwear. "Do you want me to buy you some briefs?"  


"I have some."  


"Oh. Okay." Most guys wore one style. But she wasn't going to question him further about his underwear. She held a pencil over a small notepad. "Tell me what else you want me to get from your motel room."  


He was still pretty out of it from the pain medication, so she liked to follow him around when he got up, seeing that he made it to his destination without falling again. Lisbon put off making a run to his place until she felt more sure of his mobility and mental clarity. He was already improving on the crutches and would make a show of clucking and wiggling his butt at her as she followed behind him like a mother hen.  


"Ha ha, Princess. Who'll be laughing when you fall on that tender tush again, huh?"  


"Sheep dip," he said, mocking her.  


"When you show me you can manage well enough, I'll stop monitoring you."  


Usually, he fell asleep whenever he got quiet. After their exhausting first day in the condo, she fell asleep in the armchair, waking after dark with a slight crick in her neck. Someone was at the door. She peeked out to see Rigsby with bags and packages in his arms.  


"Hey, thanks! You didn't have to bring those by tonight. It's late and I know you want to get back to Ben."  


"No problem, Boss. It was easier to do it now while I was already out. And I live closer than Cho. How's the patient?"  


She pointed. "Asleep on the couch. Pain meds keep him knocked out whenever he settles someplace. Come in, have a beer or something."  


"Rain check? I need to get back home. Hey. I got the size socks you said. That's pretty big."  


She crooked her finger to draw him into the room. "Look at his cast. The sock has to go over it. It has a peg for walking. He said he's going to cut a hole in the socks to put the peg through."  


They both snickered. Jane pushed up to a seated position, looking to where he had heard voices.  


"Rigsby?"  


"Yeah, man. I brought your stuff."  


"Hey, thanks! I appreciate the help. I know Lisbon can use the support." He smiled and she rolled her eyes.  


"I hear you're Peg-Leg Pete."  


"What? Oh! My cast. Yeah, Pirates. Ha." He patted the plaster.  


"Look. I gotta get back home. Good to see ya. Glad you're doing okay and all that."  


"Coming along. See you in a few days."  


Lisbon leaned to say quietly in Rigsby's ear, "I think it will be more than a few days . . ."  


"Hey, Jane . . . everybody wants to sign your cast! When you get back."  


From then on, when the team called to check on Jane, and even after he returned to work, they started calling him by pirate names because of the pegged cast, finally settling on "Matey," but Lisbon continued to call him Princess in private. He didn't seem to mind.


	3. Chapter 3

Lisbon discretely confiscated and tossed the tailored boxers, now with an open seam up the right side, that Jane had been wearing the first two days. In his defense, poor Jane was so out of it on painkillers that he couldn't realize or tend to more than the most basic demands of modesty. And he had to wear them until she made the trip to his motel to get his other stuff. While he had complained of their lack of support, under heavy medication Jane was oblivious to the fact they showed his entire haunch on the right side. It was sleek and pleasing to look at, but with the leg open and loose, his male parts were sliding around and sometimes showing themselves as he moved.  


Exhausted and needing a late morning nap in the armchair before she trekked over to Jane's for some clothing, Lisbon had opened her eyes more than once to the sight of three rounds of soft, succulent flesh peeking from the shadows of his underwear. Worse, when he really stretched out and fell asleep, one of the triplets changed size and density over the course of his nap. She had tried to brush the thought away as if he was one of her little brothers, but that hadn't worked at all. God! Attempting to ignore it and settle back down, not wanting to embarrass him by asking him to cover up when it would just keep happening, and all would be remedied soon, she finally just rocketed out of the chair and made ready to go. She so did not need to see that, nor could she get the image from her mind. If she sat there one minute longer, she would lose her steel, take open advantage of his debilitated condition and just ogle him until she drove herself crazy! She would throw the shorts away as soon as Jane had put on one of his briefs.  


Shaking Jane gently at the shoulder, Lisbon spoke quietly. "I'm going to get your stuff. Need anything else while I'm out?" Not opening his eyes, Jane's head barely wagged no.  


She returned with the briefs, some baggy swim trunks and a couple tee shirts. He wouldn't be needing work clothes for a few days at least. Toothbrush, hairbrush (Did he ever need that? There seemed to be strands of his hair in it.), shampoo. Tea. He had a few different varieties, so she brought them all so that he might feel a little more at home. She didn't snoop, even though she knew he was bound to be looking through every drawer, closet and nook in her condo that his crutches could take him and some that he would wriggle into without them. That was part of what it meant to be associated with Patrick Jane. Nothing could curb his essential nosiness. 

"Better, huh?" She could tell he felt much more comfortable with actual clothes on, even if they weren't his customary presentation to the world. The swim trunks were Bermuda style and baggy, the tee shirts a little tight and rode up his belly and back. It was nice to look at, but she texted Rigsby to add tee shirts to the shopping list. A lot had been accomplished in less than forty-eight hours from getting Jane into her condo.  


Although Lisbon had not been so physically indiscreet in front of Jane, her constant close proximity in assisting him with so many everyday activities was enough for him to begin to focus on her essential femininity. He constantly fought to keep from touching, caressing, even kissing her. He enjoyed smelling her skin and hair when she was close, especially after a shower. It started as feelings of easy affection and natural gratitude for her kindness. But the reactions in his male flesh made it clear what his ultimate interest was. The carnal was infusing his natural and long-existing love for her. And the foot washing! Her hands caressing his feet, working soap and water in between his toes! He would try to hold his breath to keep from whimpering as he pushed his clasped hands into his lap, and then pretend to cough to catch his breath. Lisbon never acted curious why this only happened when she tended his feet.  


The culmination for him was coming out of the bathroom to find Lisbon hopping from foot to foot outside the door, needing to get in.  


"Sorry, Lisbon, I thought you were working on files in the kitchen." There was a bit of a jam as he tried clumsily to exit and she to squeeze around his crutches.  


"It's hard to work when my bladder is dancing," she complained, still fidgeting as she stepped back to let him pass, her hand pressed between her legs to distract the tingling.  


Oh, to be that hand! "Looks to me like you're the one dancing," he snickered instead, enjoying Lisbon stripped of her adult veneer. He went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea and calm down. But all he could think of was her delicate hand grasping the small vee between her sleek, petite legs.  


Subjected to the constant sexual charge, each began to privately question the sanity of living a platonic version of their love for each other. Physical desire was inevitable between two healthy adults of mutual affection who lived essentially celibate lives apart and were now temporarily thrown together. It was an almost existential question for their relationship, driven deep by design or denial, that now seemed almost foolish to avoid. But neither had the courage to break the barrier of their accustomed boundaries.  


Instead, they counted on the expected relief when Jane went home to his motel room on the fourth day. A little distance would be good. It would stop the triggering of libido by the unending and unintended intimacies of living together. Separation would allow the fog of sexual tension to dissipate.  


Problems with Jane trying to function alone in his motel room surfaced almost immediately, the biggest being the bathroom. While he could just manage the contortions for the toilet, it was very cumbersome to maneuver in the tiny room with his cast. Bathing was a strain since the showerhead was fixed and he couldn't maintain the odd angle needed to wash, straddling the tub. He was back to bathing at a sink, this time the small one in the dressing alcove. Besides, by the end of the day when he usually bathed, his injured leg was so achy he couldn't stand on it for long. Dragging the upholstered chair to the sink in the dressing area was no solution. It wouldn't dry out enough for the next use after his clumsy bathing attempts had soaked it.  


Washing his hair in the little sink was a torment to his bent, aching back. He couldn't stand his itchy scalp and finally called Lisbon for help. It was already dark and she was in her sleep clothes, but threw on shoes and a sweater to drive over. She couldn't help but respond to the frustration, desperation and discomfort in his voice.  


Sizing up the situation, Lisbon said, "Okay, Princess, we need to get you into the tub."  


"But my cast—"  


"We're gonna lower your butt in first. Prop your legs against the bottom wall and scoot your butt down. Don't worry. I'll help support you. We're not going to fill the tub, just get your head close enough to the water to wash your hair." When he just looked at her, she snapped her fingers. "Come on. It's getting late. I'll help you get in and out. Take off your shirt so it doesn't get wet. Your boxers we can't do anything about. You can just change them later." She forcibly expelled from her mind the image of washing the hair of a naked Jane, the succulent triplets in full view as he lay flat on his back in the tub. All the soapy water . . .  


She wedged the peg of the cast on top of the tub corner and held his arm near the shoulder while he hung his good leg over the side and slid in, providing resistance for him. On her knees next to the tub, washing Jane's hair as he looked at her face brought a surge of unexpected tender feeling, remembering how many times she had done a similar thing for her little brothers. They would look up at her just the same way.  


Jane saw her smile and the far away look in her eyes. "I'm sorry to be such trouble, Lisbon."  


"It's okay. I know I seem grumpy but I'm happy to do it now that I'm here. You're my best friend. What else can I do, huh?" She stopped a minute to look at his sweet face, then patted his cheek with a soapy hand and went back to work on his hair.  


Jane grabbed her arm, stopping her movement for a moment and causing her to look in his eyes when he told her, "You're my best friend, too," his lips parted and still to await her response, then smiling when she smiled at him. "Forever," he finished.  


"Best friends forever, Jane. Yes."  


He pressed the side of his face into her soapy hand and released her to finish her task.  


What a sentimental man! She looked at his grubby feet. "You want me to get those while I'm here?"  


With some trepidation, he nodded and folded his hands over his equipment, hoping it made him merely look passive. Well, he couldn't get his feet himself.  


"Okay. Sit up, easier to wash that way. They really get dirty going barefoot, don't they?"  


"I'm in my room all day. It's more comfortable. But . . . it's been a few days . . ." Seated, with his good knee up as she worked both hands through his toes, he was able to hide any evidence of his arousal. He wished he didn't have to hide it.  


Too busy to catch his forlorn, uncomfortable expression, Lisbon rinsed and dried his feet, helped him stand and get out of the tub, handed him a towel and made ready to go. He wished she didn't have to leave. He toweled his hair and she gaped underneath his notice as it stood spiky at all angles as if he'd stuck his finger into a cartoon light socket. There was something boyish and adorable about his helplessness against his own hair.  


"Get some rest, Jane. I'll see you in the morning. What'll it be, donuts or a blueberry muffin?" Rather than struggle so much to be in the physical office, the team had agreed it was best all round for Jane to do his consultant duties by phone until his actual presence became a necessity for the solution of a case. He just wasn't ready to return to work, and certainly not the field.  


"Donuts, please, the cinnamon sugar kind." It would be nice to smell cinnamon and think of Lisbon while she was away at work.  


Jane had tried to develop a routine. For breakfast he had tea and whatever sweet Lisbon would drop by on her way to work. He ordered delivery for lunch and dinner, eating alone. Endlessly cooped up in one room, he'd quickly grown restless with no outlet and wanted to smash the television to bits, its fare was so monotonous. Various members of the team had dropped by when they had a spare minute during the day. Lisbon's visits were oases in his sere desert, but he grew to hate it when she had to leave. He gave no voice to this. He didn't know that if he had, she would have understood the loneliness and boredom of his confinement. She would have loaded him up and brought him home.  


They'd texted and talked several times a day. Lisbon could tell the boredom was getting to him and did her best to maintain a cheerful mood. While he was comfortable enough on his crutches to get around a little bit now, the area where he lived offered no amusement. He could always take a taxi somewhere but so far he hadn't shown that interest. He'd get through it. Besides, he'd always think of something he needed that would require her to drop by again during the day or on her way home from work. Although she tried to hide it, she really enjoyed these short visits and it let her keep tabs on how he was doing.  


She hadn't wanted to interfere with Jane's natural independence, thinking at first that his return home would also give her a rest from tending him. But then there was his laundry. The laundry room at his motel was too long a walk for Jane to handle, on crutches and toting a bag of clothes. She considered taking him in the car, but it would still tie up her time either sitting there with him or driving him back and forth to his room. And sending them out to be done would mean another trip to the department store to get what he needed to wear while everything else was out being laundered.  


She decided it would be easier to do it herself, even under Jane's protest that it was too much to ask. After the first round of gathering it, bringing it to her apartment, doing it and bringing it back to him, Lisbon was ready to call it quits. She was hot and tired, running back and forth until after dark to accomplish everything and still see to herself after a day's work. If he was at her apartment, where she had a utility room with all needed appliances, he could do it himself, easily.  


On the fifth night, she entered his room and said, "Pack up, Princess. You're coming home with me. It's easier to take care of you there."  


Jane smiled broadly and started gathering his things. When he limped out the door, bags in both hands, Lisbon took them and barked playfully, "Jane, get your damn crutches!"  


Sighs of relief were frequent that evening, both friends able to relax and do what needed to be done with relative ease. They shared a large buttery bowl of popcorn and watched sitcoms until time for bed. To Lisbon, her couch looked like a great bed after a restful evening uninterrupted by frustrated phone calls or unplanned trips. Jane felt a little guilty about taking Lisbon's bed again. While he could get on and off the couch fine now, the bulk of his cast and its angle created a real problem for elevating or settling it comfortably for the night.  


"I'll help you sort the guest room and the little bathroom whenever you're ready, Lisbon."  


Lisbon thought about the huge chore and the fact that the junk had nowhere else to go. And, coincidentally, her extra energy was being used to look after a certain other party these days. "I'm not ready," she said. "We'll be fine."  


His days so inactive, Jane sometimes had trouble sleeping at night. A couple of times, he thought he heard talking from the living room, a few minutes after which Lisbon would get up and come to the bathroom, her shirt sticking to her back against a big wet spot.  


"Bad dream?" he would say.  


"No. Fine. Bathroom," she would mumble, but he didn't believe her.  


Making a point to listen for her the next time he lay awake, he padded out as quietly as he could, peered over the back of the couch and found Lisbon, agitated in her sleep and saying something he couldn't understand except for "No," and "Don't go." He wanted to wake her from the dream, but knew she wouldn't want him to know about it. He slinked back to her bed, but she caught him up before he could lie back down.  


"Oh," she said, "Were you going for the bathroom?"  


"No, just finishing."  


He watched her go in, now under the full light of the open door. Her back was soaked! That wasn't just a bad dream. It was a nightmare. Had to be an abandonment thing. No surprises there, with her history. It was clear she was used to dealing with it and he allowed her to follow her recovery routine without comment. Jane was very glad to know this about his tender, brave friend.  


The nightmares were one thing. Their mutual unspoken agreement to ignore any sexual tension, however, was inherently flawed, not a plan at all, and its tendrils grew around the two like a weedy vine. By the third night, Lisbon's biology was catching up to her. Normally, she would get out one of her trusty little vibrators and relieve the congestion with some pleasurable fantasy.  


For the last three days, Jane's masculine presence had filled her home. She knew the basic shape of his naked body, including his ass, his genitals at rest (okay, the succulent triplets were old news now, but hardly forgotten), the tone and coloring of his skin, the broadness of his back and chest and the lithe muscling of his limbs. She had learned there was indeed a difference between his hair when it had been brushed and when it had not. She knew the color of the hair on his arms and legs, how much it curled and where. What he smelled like in the morning and how it was different before and after his evening shower. She had seen him scratch his balls too many times to count, his goods shifting in his hand. How could men be that itchy? Washing his feet every night, she was sure now that he was not ticklish, but actually sexually sensitive there. She was very curious about it, but tried to minimize the amount of time she spent on them.  


It was frustrating to have a man take her bed every night, especially this man, and not be able to have the advantages it would normally offer. The invasion of masculinity into her life had flipped her horny switch to on and she needed to do something about it without making a vibration!  


She decided the bathroom would be safe enough if she ran water. He was knocked out in her bed anyway, on his stomach. She went into the bathroom and opened the sink spigot. She thought of him on the other side of the door, in her bed, his fine round ass on her sheets. No doubt in profile right now as he lay squashing onto her mattress whatever made that bulge in his pants that seemed to change size from hour to hour. As her mind sorted through the living images, she pictured him plying her body with his assets. Thinking about him aroused her impossibly.  


She took her pants down, squeezed her fanny sensuously and pulled the cheeks high, feeling them drag her sex open and then letting everything bounce free. Laying a towel over the toilet lid, she sat down, spread her legs and rubbed her wet aching folds with a soothing hand. Her fingers knew well what to do, and she ended by repeatedly pinching her standing nub fast and hard, fingers sliding in the moisture, until she came, knocking her foot against the tub and stifling the rhythmic keening of her intense release to an acceptable decibel level. As she floated down, she wondered just how loud she had actually been. Surely not loud enough to wake him over the water. And she felt so much more relaxed now, that warm honey feeling flowing down her legs as it traveled from her core.  


Putting her bottoms back on, she opened the bathroom door to see Jane standing there on crutches, his hand reaching for the doorknob. She opened her mouth in surprise.  


Water running in the bathroom had awoken him, and it ran for a long time without the variation in sound one would expect if someone were using it to wash. Then he heard a thump and what sounded like someone moaning in pain. It was hard to tell over the sound of the water. Lisbon must have stubbed her toe and was moaning as the pain throbbed. Or worse, maybe she had fallen. He had gotten up to see if she needed help.  


"Did you stub your toe?"  


"No. Why would you think that? Just using the bathroom. You want in?"  


Rather than trying to argue something so inane, he just said, "Yeah."  


She ducked her head and walked past him to the living room and her bed on the couch.  


Jane understood everything when he walked into the bathroom. He could identify female musk when he smelled it and just now it was particularly strong. And it had to be all Lisbon. He watched her leave the room and he knew what she had been doing. It made him hard and he did his best to cope by washing his hands and scenting the room with soap instead. He returned to bed, but had to fight his arousal, craving to sniff her fingers, until the new round of pain meds caught up with him.

Living with a woman after so many years, especially this woman whom he loved and already knew well, especially one who was tending him and had often to be close, even somewhat intimate, was more of an assault on Jane's libido than he'd expected. He'd seen the entire length of her slender little legs peeking out of her sleep shorts and the bottoms of her cheeks when she bent over in them. Not the tidiest of persons, Lisbon often dropped her bras and panties to accumulate where she'd removed them, usually in the bathroom, and he'd be left toeing the silk and lace out of the way when he had to go in there. The panties, especially, were tempting to pick up and- no, he wouldn't go there, yet. He knew the difference in how her breasts looked when she wore a bra and when she didn't, how they lay on her hands and bounced when she scratched under them. He had seen her nipples poking her tee shirts and tanks more times than he could count. Her fingertips disappeared into the clothed cleft of her sex as she scratched there. How could women be so itchy? Jesus, he wanted to smell her fingers!  


The next day Lisbon went to work. Being alone in her apartment always felt a little strange, but Jane often passed the time by going through her things when the boredom grew too great. The first day he had found her vibrator, well, her collection and the, apparently emergency, supply of condoms. Thinking of it now reminded him of what had happened the night before, the scent of her musk filling his nostrils and trying to shut down his brain. The pent-up stimulation of living with a woman, this woman in particular, without the comforts that life with a woman would normally offer, kept him in a constant state of low-level arousal. It had ramped to a fever pitch, and he would relieve it—now!  


He went to the kitchen and dragged a chair into the bathroom, where he could think about her scent and her underwear lying on the floor. It was really the only private room in the condo and he needed to be able to sit comfortably. His excitement grew with the acts of preparation.  


Looking into the mirror made him confront what he was doing. He noticed he was twirling his wedding ring and brought his hand up to look at it. Considering what he was about to do, he decided to remove it and set in on the sink until he was finished. What a feverish way to take such a step, but it felt like the right thing to do, for both of his loves. He shook his head at the comparison he was making, one woman dead and the other the subject of a sexual fantasy. He whistled. "Patrick Jane, you are one screwed up son of a bitch." His hardened flesh did not care one bit, and he wanted to satisfy it thinking about a very alive Lisbon. Ring, off.  


Thinking about her collection of vibrators, Jane imagined what she might look like using them, her legs wide, her face expressing the sensation, maybe pinching her own nipples. Did she just use them to buzz her clit? No. She had too many for that. She put them inside herself, different ones for different stimulation. He imagined that he was inside her instead, working her to a heat, watching her breasts bounce as he set a rhythm with her. He was fully extended and nearing completion when Lisbon, who had left work early on a slow afternoon, unthinkingly opened the bathroom door, on automatic in her own home and never considering that Jane might be in there.  


Oops! The door bumped an obstacle . . . Lisbon peeked around to see what blocked it. Jane had dragged in a kitchen chair, probably intending to use the detachable showerhead to wash his hair. His back was to her, his towel draped the chair back and his hand was moving- around his erect—.  



	4. Chapter 4

"Whoa! Lisbon!"  


Not enough time to decide if it would look worse to keep his dick in his hand, at least partially hidden, though not the plump crimson part, or take his hand away in feigned shame but show every inch of himself. He grabbed a towel from the rack and threw it over his lap, making a snow-covered mountain.  


Lisbon was riveted. Why didn't she turn and flee? "What are you doing? That's an erection, Jane." She sounded idiotic, even to herself.  


He cocked his head in a comic way. "They're not allowed here?" It was an attempt at a joke, but she was too shocked to laugh.  


"I, I should've knock--. You're- You're— mast-"  


"I'm sorry, Lisbon. I couldn't very well do this in the kitchen . . . too awkward for the shower . . . and . . . well . . . not in your bed." He raised his eyebrows. How many nights had he been fighting THAT? " . . . I assumed I would have privacy in here." He didn't want to say it in her own house, but yes, she really should have knocked. "You're home early."  


Her shock really seemed out of proportion. Could be the boss thing. Or maybe her Catholic upbringing. "It's not the end of the world. I'm a grown man. Managing myself. Not a little boy who needs to be taught when and where." He frowned, embarrassed at the thought. Jane felt like a horny teenager, caught by his mother jerking off with a dirty magazine. The last thing he wanted was to involve himself in a parental relationship with Lisbon. It was far too weird. And totally foreign to his real feeling for her which had become quite carnal, the furthest from parental that he could imagine.  


She still didn't say anything, obviously processing what she'd seen and trying to decide what to do with it, how she felt about it.  


"I wasn't going to leave a mess or anything." Another attempt at humor that fell flat.  


Lisbon was shocked, yes. There were some things she just didn't need to know about him. Good grief. What was left to see? What was she doing, still standing in the doorway, staring at him? At his entire naked ass squashed under the open chair back? But the real crux of her reaction was that she was aroused, the giant contraction of her core priming her almost instantly with slick, begging for what she had seen to be thrust into her, and by its owner, who would kiss her senseless and- Lust was about to overtake her, and she had to get out of there!  


"No. No. You're right. It's a perfectly natural thing to do. You were doing the right thing, Jane. I should have knocked. My apologies. Really." She backed out of the bathroom and shut the door.  


Her face felt like a heat lamp. She left her room entirely and stood trembling with desire at the guest room door. What was happening? What did she expect? A man and a woman sharing space like this. Someone was bound to see or hear something they shouldn't.  


Jane came out of the bathroom, towel around his waist and more of a bulge, there, than she remembered noticing before. She looked away.  


"Lisbon. Please. I'm not used to living with a woman. It's . . . It's . . . You're very attractive, I mean, nice to look at. And I know you and how attractive you are as a person. And we're here so close all the time. It's like being married or something. But without . . . without . . . you know." He looked at her seriously. "I know you know."  


God! He HAD heard her in the bathroom last night and he knew she hadn't stubbed her toe! She kicked her heel against the baseboard. This was so embarrassing! She plastered herself to the wall with her hands behind her back and raised her head and eyes to the ceiling, groaning her discomfort.  


Jane wanted her, felt mad to kiss her and get into her. He needed to talk her down, get her to take a second look at him, give him a chance to love her as he ought. "Look, Lisbon. Don't be embarrassed. We're two healthy adults, each with healthy sexual urges. We just had a little collision of our two realities. We have solitary lifestyles that include solitary sexual activities. We're used to satisfying ourselves. But since I've been here and remembered what a joy it is to be part of a pair, well, maybe it's silly to do these things for ourselves when we could be doing them for each other."  


"So this would be what, a convenient sexual arrangement?"  


"It wouldn't stay that way. It couldn't between us. We have too much history."  


"No. I wouldn't be that way with us."  


Jane noticed her "mistaken" wording, "I" instead of "it." It made him feel bubbly inside, happy, and he smiled.  


Almost unconsciously, Lisbon glanced at Jane's left hand. Her mouth opening in mild shock, she pointed at the bare skin of his ring finger. "Where's your ring?"  


Jane looked at his hand and then back toward the bathroom, pointing and opening his mouth to speak, then looking at his hand again. Dropping it to his side, he decided to tell the truth. "I took it off. To . . . do what I was doing. It didn't seem right." He looked down, not sure how he sounded to her. "To either of you. When I was going to, well, thinking of you. I guess I took it off for you."  


He took a step towards Lisbon. "I forgot it when you came in." He looked at his hand again. "I don't think I need it anymore." He looked up with a warm smile that lit his eyes.  


Lisbon tried to take in what he was telling her. "For me? You were going to do . . . that, and took off your ring because you were thinking of me?"  


Jane nodded. "Oh, yes. I had a great fantasy going, too. You make me so hard, Lisbon. I had to . . ." His voice trailed off. "But I shouldn't have my ring on when I'm thinking of you . . . that way. It's wrong, for both of you. I need to let it go. Is that so hard to imagine?"  


Lisbon's mind was swirling. He was hard for her and she was wet for him. And he took his ring off, for her. Yes. That was hard to imagine. "What will you do with it?"  


"Put it away somewhere safe."  


Lisbon nodded. "Get it, Jane. Get it and do it now before something happens to it."  


"No. I'll get it later. It will be fine where it is on the sink. Please. I don't want to be alone right now. Let's get in your bed and share a little pleasure together. Red John's dead. We're not in danger any more. We can figure out the rest later."  


Lisbon studied him. She had no doubt he was sincere. There was no one else she wanted to be with. And he was really bulging underneath that towel now. She looked in his eyes and nodded.  


"This doesn't mean anything about tomorrow," she said quietly. He could change his mind tomorrow. He could leave tomorrow and she'd never see him again. She wasn't counting on tomorrow.  


"No. Nothing. This is pure pleasure and figure it out later. Maybe more. Maybe not. But it's you and me, Lisbon. There's no one else I'd rather share this with."  


"Me neither."  


She walked past him and tugged the towel away from his waist, giving him a sideways smile and a cutting glance. When he turned, it was like some comical porno movie. He was completely erect and coming at her, his cock waving as he stumped along on his cast. She started taking her clothes off, laughing. But he stopped her so that he could kiss her and make her melt like chocolate inside. That was no friendly kiss! It was a branding! That was an I-will-brand-you-as-mine-for-life kiss.  


When she finally pulled away to breathe, she asked, "Is that the way you normally kiss?"  


He looked at her quizzically. "No. You make me feel pretty enthusiastic, Lisbon. It's more than technique, more than trying to get you excited enough to open your legs for me."  


"You've done that?"  


"Of course. Haven't you?"  


"Well, yes."  


"Does this feel like that to you?"  


"No. It feels much more important. But you could be gone tomorrow."  


The pleasure on his face was briefly shadowed by concern. "May I?" He'd noticed she'd stopped undressing. She presented herself to him so that he could undress her the rest of the way. "You think I'm leaving?"  


"Nothing to keep you now that Red John's over." Her body thrilled as Jane took his time uncovering her, gazing at each new naked part, kissing it gently, savoring her skin like the Big Bad Wolf testing her for roasting. Only his mouth was setting the fire. She'd never make it to the oven. She swayed a little on her feet, eyes closed as if falling under a spell.  


"Is that what those bad dreams are about?"  


"What bad dreams?"  


"The ones that make you talk in your sleep and make you sweat through your clothes." His wide hands opened, allowing the long graceful fingers to sweep lightly from the base of both breasts to the tips, watching them rise and hearing her breath flow into rhythmic sighing exhalations as he stroked them over and over.  


Too relaxed to ring the alarm at his violation of a hidden boundary, Lisbon's body flagged him through, unchallenged by her near-dreaming brain. "Not about you. About my mom and dad."  


"Leaving you?"  


She nodded. "It's old stuff. I don't know why it's coming back now."  


"Like I might leave you?"  


Lisbon opened her eyes then, staring calmly at him, her big green eyes glowing and clear, a burning forest rimmed by the black smoke of her dark lashes. "I guess so. I dream it sometimes." She looked down at the hard cock he had for her. "I wake up sweaty."  


Lisbon's loneliness reached out to Jane without guile. It made what they were doing this minute so much more important, perhaps placing a healing seal on their relationship. They really needed to go through with this, if only to get it out of the way. He doubted that would be the result. More than likely, it was taking their relationship to a new, irrevocable level, and he welcomed it. He knew she did, too. But it was also Lisbon's deepest concern, the monster at the bottom of the pit. She wanted to be safe and loved, not abandoned by an unreliable idiot like he had been and knew himself to be no more.  


The conflict between her two desires had paralyzed her until now. She was willing to move forward and, at least in this moment, accept devastating loss as a result. Jane felt his love for her bloom hot, like bursting stars throughout his body. Because he knew that would never be the result. He knew that he would meet Lisbon's needs and make himself the happiest man on earth at the same time.  


He petted her naked skin. She looked so beautiful standing in front of him without a stitch on, shapely and feminine, transparent to him, woman to his man. The armor she wore with him today was her vulnerability, a gossamer offering of her true self, calm in its display. He let his fingers flit at her nipples. It interrupted her passivity. "I won't leave you, Teresa. Not unless I die or you make me go."  


The look in her eyes was liquid and exposed, almost innocent, her childhood called forth between them.  


"You're very beautiful."  


"So are you." She touched a finger to the head of his hardened flesh and made it jump. She smiled, but Jane pulled just a little away from her.  


"I want to kiss you so much."  


Lisbon's head darted up to look at him then and she lifted onto her toes to make it easier for him to reach her. He bent down for only a touch.  


"I really need to lie down to kiss you. I'm having trouble standing with this cast. And it will make it easier for me to make love with you."  


Her mouth curled into a wicked smile, but once in bed, Lisbon seemed to freeze up.  


"Have you changed your mind already?"  


She looked at him and shook her head. "No. I just want to do everything all at once and I don't know what to pick first . . . what you like . . ."  


Gently stroking the top of her head, Jane smiled in pleasure. "I know what you mean." He nudged between her lower lips with the head of his penis. "How about this?"  


Her head arched back in pleasure and he felt the vibration of her voice as he kissed her exposed throat. "I don't know if I'm ready. I mean, if I'm slippery enough." She'd forgotten the rush of liquid that had flooded her when she first saw his hand pumping in the bathroom.  


"Let's test it, shall we? I know it's a bit of a sudden introduction . . . but I think we've been waiting for this for a long time. And there's lots more pleasure for us."  


In response, Lisbon opened her legs and each of them felt a fluttering curl in their nervous systems at what they were about to do. Jane groaned and kissed his way to her ear and then took her lips, already branded and plump. She opened her mouth to him and they melded, the actions of lip and tongue foreshadowing what they would do below.  


He hissed as she put a hand between them and took hold, guiding him, and found her pool of moisture. Laving the swollen head, she dared to look into Jane's warm eyes and take in his tender smile. She watched his eyes dilate at her actions and he entered her, thrilling at her response. She arched and moaned, her eyes going black, rimmed with a deep green halo and then she lay limp in his arms, overtaken by a panting torpor, flushed and smiling. He recaptured her lips, pulled back a little and pushed into her again, finding his new home.  


The cast was in the way, an obstacle that kept them at a slightly odd angle, his leg in the air. Both knew this first coupling would be brief after such a charged prelude. Instead of thrusting, Jane chose a gentler, slower approach and buried himself as deeply as he could, knowing that Teresa was also a hair trigger away. He pressed sensuously against everything inside her, getting to know her. It was a long interior kiss and she revived from her torpor as he'd hoped, soon panting and undulating against him in response. She cried out to him, gripping his back and when she released it was with throaty cries that sounded like relief from pain.  


To Jane, she was heaven, hot and soft and gripping him in her orgasm as if she was trying to swallow him. He let go of a climax so tight he thought his balls would go with it, huffing forcefully and jerking, the base of his spine touched with ice and fire as he shot into her for the first time. When he had recovered enough to kiss her, he thought he would never stop.  


The couple's satiation was only a stepping stone to the next act, with Jane lodged more comfortably on his back and Lisbon riding him until they were both senseless. He loved how she moved on top of him, more of a glide, so different from the thrusting instinctive to him but just as pleasurable. At the end she instructed him to raise his bent arms and, gripping his hands, she used them as leverage to make her hips glide more forcefully against him, her breasts dropping full and heavy just shy of his mouth like unattainable ripe fruit. He'd been unable to hold back against her onslaught of new sensation, but she rocketed into ecstasy right after him, sagging against his upraised arms afterwards and then dropping onto his chest to regain her breath, pressing her rich breasts between them.  


Lisbon didn't know she had the dream again that night, for she never awoke. She talked and struggled in her sleep, waking Jane. He listened quietly until she called for someone, "Don't go! Come back!" Then he pulled her carefully into his arms so as not to wake her. She was a little sweaty, but he kissed her forehead, saying, "I'm here, Teresa. I won't go. I'm here," until she settled peacefully back to sleep, safe from her bad dream.


	5. Chapter 5

In the morning, Lisbon got out of bed in her sleep shirt and no panties, flashing a dark mystery before Jane's eyes, one he wanted to solve right then. "Lisbon. Wait."  


She looked over her shoulder at him.  


"Come back. That's it." He put his hands on her hips, gently pushing one and pulling the other. "Turn around. Now bend down."  


Bending over, she looked around her shoulder at him.  


"Please. I want to look at you."  


Smiling and narrowing her green eyes, Lisbon bent over and wiggled her hips playfully in front of Jane's face. Caressing and squeezing the soft flesh of her bottom, he pushed up to expose her sex, petting it with his fingers until he saw new moisture draw down like dew on something juicy and sweet.  


Getting out of bed, he grabbed his crutches and they coupled from behind, Jane holding the crutches on a low rung to balance and as extra leverage for his thrusts, giving Lisbon something to back into as he called to her, "Harder!" and groaned in huffs as she took him up on it. She screwed into him, ramming her hips against him and twisting as she pulled off, sounding soft determined grunts with her effort.  


Jane watched her buttocks slam into him stroke after stroke, knowing it was her want of him that made these demands now and it thrilled him to see her take him so wantonly. She ended by arching into him, her back concave to the straining split rise of her fanny into the air, bent like a bow to get the angle and depth she wanted. He almost fell over, dropping the crutches to grab her hips and jack her up and down. His climax seemed to pull blood from everywhere, feeding his engorged flesh as it emptied into her and she pulsed around him, yelping through the waves of her orgasm.  


Any man who saw sex as mere release didn't have this in his life! This was a miracle of connection and communication, a bond of love and attachment that would carry him until the end of his life, if she would go with him. He would have cautioned himself against making decisions based on mind-blowing sex, but he knew how much he'd already loved this woman before they had known each other this way.  


Lisbon pulled away from him, backed him to the bed and tumbled in after him, smothering him with kisses and 'I love you,' over and over. "No one has ever made me feel like this, Patrick. So adored, so desired, so appreciated." She focused on his smiling face and said, slyly, "I think you love my animal."  


"I love everything about you, Lisbon. Everything. And if by your "animal" you mean how you make love to me without reservation, god, yes, I love your animal."  


"We've missed a lot . . . "  


"I know. I'm sorry." He drew her into his arms. "But not anymore."  


She looked into his eyes. "Not one minute."  


And so was it sealed between them.  


Later that evening when Lisbon went in to wash Jane's feet, he was lying in the tub, naked.  


"Mmmmmm. Special treat with the foot washing tonight, Princess?"  


"You'll see."  


Lisbon started their familiar routine, making a sudsy wash on his feet with her strong little fingers. The soap issued a wonderful scent of rose, so powerful and sweet it was almost medicinal, healing, as it filled the room.  


This time Jane made gentle requests that she spend more time here or there, that she pinch or press the meat in certain places, arching and groaning when she complied. He asked that she press the sides together. But he allowed her free reign on his toes, asking only that she do it longer or again, throwing his head back to show his white throat, the Adam's apple still until he gasped another breath.  


Lisbon loved to see him under her spell as she pet his feet, gorgeous to her with their delicate bones, milky skin and lovely blocky shape. "So beautiful," she told him. She kissed the top of the one, tonguing the bones, and suckle-kissed every pink toe of each foot. Jane looked like a man under delirium, breathing hoarsely as his chest heaved under its flushed skin, thrashing his head when ecstasy whispered into his ear.  


His tight erection lay like a fallen tower against his quivering belly, arching of its own accord with the waves of pleasure that surged through him. It fascinated her to see him in such an extreme state of arousal without any direct handling. Soon he began to jerk his hips or huff and cry out, especially as she worked a certain place in the balls of his feet. He looked very close to orgasm to her, his balls sitting close under the shaft. She fondled them so lightly, brushing them with her thumb as they rested on her fingers, learning their shape, testing their weight and texture, the prickliness of the golden hair. It was only moments, but they suddenly drew out of her hand and Jane came hard, splashing hot creamy lines onto his chest as he crooned the ecstasy of his release.  


When he raised his head to look at her, his eyes dark and deep, he groaned a laugh filled with breathy joy, saying, "My god, what you do to me, Teresa!" It warmed every part of her and she smiled and winked at him.  


Soon came a Saturday, with a crystal sky sporting a bright hot sun and tempered by moist breezes from the cool Pacific Ocean just to the west.  


"Let's go get ice cream!" Lisbon sparkled with excitement. "It's a beautiful day and when was the last time you got out?"  


"Long time, too long! I guess you won't mind if I slow you down a little." He patted his cast. "It being Saturday, we can take our time." Looking in her closet at the bit of space she had allocated for his needs, he mumbled, "Do I have something to put on?"  


Her voice sounded right behind him and made him jump. "What? You don't want a three-piece?"  


"Ha ha, Teresa." Turning to her and catching her for a good smacking kiss, he asked, "Did you bring any jeans? I think I have a pair with—"  


"Boot-cut legs? Yes." She dug them out of a dresser drawer, folded perfectly to have a light seam. "I guess you can use your regular shoes. Or shoe, Matey. It will look fine with jeans and a tee shirt." He chose a slate blue shirt. "Here's a sock for your good foot," and she handed him a navy sock.  


Both of them blushed in shy pleasure at the familiarity and domesticity of their interaction. Neither wanted to ruin the moment by comment.  


When he was dressed, she eyed him like fresh-grilled steak. "You look wonderful in jeans and a tee, Jane. I want to ravish you right now! I never could resist a button down fly. Grrrrrrr!" She nipped his chin, rubbing her tongue on the mist of stubble he had left there and cupping him through his button downs. He grinned with all of his teeth.  


Jane loved playful Lisbon, and he was getting to see a lot of her since they had started making love. She seemed to blossom in the stability and constancy that he could have offered only her, made sure to offer her, only his Teresa. In return, she gave every bit of the sweetness from the deep, hidden well of her heart. They were completely in love.  


Jane was well able to get his cast into the car by himself and proved to be expert on his crutches, even on unaccustomed surfaces. Steps were still a little tricky, but Lisbon made sure to be at his side when he took them, spotting for him.  


They ate their ice cream at a little fresh air bistro table, he with his double dip vanilla cone, licking away with his big wide tongue lifting streaks of cream. Lisbon wanted a strawberry sundae righteously trimmed and loved the melty, soupy part as much as the solid dips. She drank it like a lumpy milkshake at the end, giving herself a pink moustache. Jane couldn't resist taking several strawberry-flavored kisses from her lips.  


Afterwards, they walked it off, looking in shops, enjoying the day and sitting on benches when Jane's legs got tired. One of these benches was across from an artisan's shop with some very interesting jewelry and other constructions.  


"You want to go in, Lisbon?"  


"No, you go ahead. I'm enjoying the sun. I'll be right here."  


Inside smelled like incense covering pot. The shop was small, and with so many unique items made by the artist, who was also the proprietor. A tall, solidly built man, he wore about eight rings, strings of beads and necklaces, had long wavy auburn hair with streaks of gray and a receding hairline. "Are you looking for something specific?"  


"No, I was just curious to see what was here. The view through the window is enticing, uh . . .?"  


"Dave. This is my stuff, man."  


"You made all these things?"  


"Yep."  


"You've got some beautiful pieces here."  


"Thanks. I saw you and your lady sitting outside. She's got some fiery green eyes."  


"You could see that from in here?"  


"I keep opera glasses behind the counter." He lifted them into view and put them back. "Helps me keep a watch on things. Good to see stuff comin' at ya, know what I mean?"  


"Sure, sure."  


Jane spotted a short silver chain with a toggle closure. The links were not too delicate, but not heavy either. "Is that a bracelet?"  


"Yes. It's kind of an old fashioned charm bracelet."  


"Oh yeah. I remember those. They always sounded nice, looked nice, too, tinkling on a girl's wrist."  


"You thinking about that for your lady?"  


Jane smiled. A present for Lisbon. His lady. "I'm not sure what to put on it . . . I don't want to ask. So it can be a surprise."  


"Well. You have some pretty striking eyes yourself, man."  


Jane looked at him and saw that he was sincere, even shrugging acknowledgement that it was a complement from another man. "Well, thanks, Dave."  


"What do you think about these?" Dave reached into a box of various shapes of colored glass or gems, Jane couldn't tell which without handling them himself. He brought out one of sea green and one of a truer green, both small hearts. They really were the color of the lovers' eyes.  


"Wow. Yeah."  


"Kinda romantic."  


"Yes. What are they made of?"  


"Just sea glass."  


Jane's head snapped up, remembering when he had tried to give Lisbon a lovely piece of sea glass he had found on the beach at a murder scene. She had looked at it and tossed it back to the ground, not taking it as the gift he meant at all. But these, this was sea glass even Lisbon could love."  


"Can you put them on that bracelet, Dave?"  


"Sure. To take with you?" When Jane nodded, he said, "It'll only take a minute."  


Dave put the bracelet in a pretty box and tied it with red satin ribbon, making a sensuous bow that nearly hid the cover. "Do you need a tag?"  


Jane shook his head. "No. She'll know it's from me."  


He left the shop and sat next to Lisbon, propping his crutches against the bench and using his legs for a stop. Taking her hand, he set the box in it and she looked at him, clearly pleased.  


"What is it?"  


"Why do people say that? It's a present. You're not supposed to know what it is until you open it."  


Lisbon pulled the wide satin ribbon to undo the huge red bow. It fell to her leg and Jane plucked it away before it slid to the ground. When she opened the box, her mouth made a wide "o" and she sighed in pleasure.  


"It's so lovely, Patrick. Look, it's you and me!" She held up the hearts, recognizing immediately through the sun's glow that it was for the color of their eyes. "Thank you! What a treasure!" Slipping the toggle out, she wrapped the bracelet around her wrist and fastened it, then kissed Jane full on the lips, lingering and pressing her tongue for something deeper and he gave it until he had to come up for air.  


Laughing, he said, "Stop, or I'm going to take you right here on this bench!" Still smiling, his gaze landed on the shop window and he saw Dave with his opera glasses, watching them and giving him the thumbs up. Jane gave him one back and Dave turned to go on with his business.  


The bracelet was beautiful on Lisbon's delicate wrist. She kept jiggling it and holding it up, making the hearts bounce together in the strong sunlight.  


"They're sea glass, you know."  


Lisbon got the reference immediately, smiled and covered her mouth as if atoning for a mistake. "Well, this is the most beautiful sea glass anyone has ever given me."  


Jane kissed her lightly. "You won't let me buy you emeralds." He was referring to a case they'd worked years ago. He'd had big winnings in a card game he used to trap a perp and had bought extravagant gifts for each of the team. That was really an excuse to buy Lisbon a heavy emerald necklace and earrings. They had set off her eyes like fairy light in the forest. But she had ultimately declined them.  


Tears pricked her eyes. "Maybe someday, Princess." She wrapped her arm around his and snugged her head against his shoulder. "I never meant to hurt you by not accepting your gifts. You are a bit extravagant, you know. And we weren't lovers, then."  


"That's okay." He patted her arm. "I understand you better now." He kissed her forehead with a big smack. "I can choose perfect presents for you now!"  


"Now, I will treasure anything you give me. I love you."  


"A spray-painted macaroni picture?"  


"Stop." She giggled and got up. "Come on. Let's go home. I want to thank you for your present. You made me hot!"  


"Lisbon, you are always hot. But I can't wait to stoke your furnace. Let's go." He reached down and squeezed her nearest ass cheek. And she didn't swat his hand away.  


They opened her condo door, laughing and kissing their way in. Lisbon backed him clumsily all the way to the sofa, spotting him as he clumped along, until he hit it with the back of his cast and sat down with an "oof!" Then she straddled his legs to kiss him, more serious now, cradling the back of his head with her hands to keep him where she wanted him. Pressing his hands onto her back and hips, he pulled her as close as he could get without jumping into her body. He didn't even try to keep up with the passion she was expressing, just hold onto it as she burned him alive.  


Raising up, she put the full weight of her body into the shoulder she leaned against him, normally not a level of force that would overwhelm him, but in his hyper-aroused compliant state, it was more than sufficient to pin his back to the couch.  


"Teresa," He said feebly. "I'll never make it if you keep this up."  


"Let me do this. Let me have my way with you. Please."  


He nodded and slouched, thinking to give her better access when she would unbutton his jeans, take him out, and ride him, eager now that he had given way.  


But she said, "No. Sit up," so he moved into an excellent example of seated posture.  


"That's right. That's good." She still had him pinned and he had to bend his head back for her kisses, resting it on the top of the sofa back.  


Lisbon was beyond desire, moving by instinct from an altered state of consciousness. Passion for Jane thrummed through her body, beating a bass drum in her lower reaches. The picture in her mind of what she wanted to do to her lover drove her gracefully. She wanted it bold and clandestine, gentle and fierce, a furtive memory of back seats and first experiences when sex was exploration under cover and male knew female by touch and not yet by sight. She wanted to watch him powerless under her hidden hand.  


She opened, then reached into the loose waistband of his jeans, underneath the stretchy elastic of his underwear, taking hold of him, drawing him to a standing position from where he lay forced to the side by the restrictions of his clothing. With a smooth hand, she stroked him, keeping him close to his body as if he were actually inside her, like when she used her hips to glide instead of needing him to thrust. Up and down she rode him with her hand, possessing his lips until she couldn't get enough air for her exertions and he kissed her neck, then bit it when she turned her head sideways. She tossed her head, not breaking her first rhythm, the sea glass hearts tinkling far under his clothes, tickling his shaft when they touched there.  


He was rock hard and satiny, hot and quivering as she found moisture dripping from the ripe plum at the top. Smearing him with it, she gently rotated her closed palm to get it everywhere and to make him cry out as she slid down again, while he gripped her clothing at the back, helpless to do anything else.  


Vaguely, Jane felt how desperately he wanted to be inside her but it would mean breaking this spell and he wouldn't know how, didn't want to. He was losing track of all sensation except her hand on him, the tinkling, tickling hearts and the spiraling buzz that spread from his cock, into his groin and then to his spine. When it started to travel up the base of his back, he gasped, pulsing in Lisbon's hand, feeling the pressure of his heart beating there and she loosened her hold but continued to stroke as he soaked his underwear, splashed her hand and his belly with the hot semen that jetted out of him and seemed to go on forever.  


"That's it. Oh, god, that's so hot, so wet. " Teresa was there, looking into his eyes when he opened them, loving him for giving in. She withdrew her hand, dripping with him and trailing from the tips of the sea glass hearts.


	6. Chapter 6

"Ahoy, Matey!" the team called out when he entered the bullpen on his first day back to work. There were pirate-themed gifts and decorations around his seldom-used desk and garlands of skulls and crossbones taped to the arms of his couch. They'd even strung a line of tiny skull party lights on the wall behind the couch. They made him pull up the baggy leg of his slacks so they could sign his cast and put pirate graffiti all over it, including his new nickname written in giant pillowy letters by Grace. Lisbon signed officially with them, but later that night, when Jane was snoozing on his stomach, she wrote on the back of his cast, above the knee, "TL and Princess," inside a heart. He'd never see it. She felt a little thrill at playing a trick on him for once.  


But Jane's attempts to return to work full time did not succeed. Being on his feet so much in the field strained both of his legs, made his healing leg ache and his back twinge. In addition, with constant use, the crutches chafed under his arms so badly that he had to lay about with his arms up for two days, coating them with antibiotic salve and letting them dry out. He decided to do everything from Lisbon's apartment, except when his actual presence was absolutely required. He couldn't bend down and sniff the bodies anyway.  


Except for sometimes in the evening, when he tended to be most achy, Jane was off pain medication. But the intense itching inside the cast nearly drove him mad since it was impossible to reach. Sometimes he would pound on the outside of the cast over the itchy place, trying to vibrate some relief to the skin underneath. The doctor prescribed some antihistamines. They made him sleepy and they didn't work all that well. In the normal course of things, he would be miserable. But everything seemed tolerable in light of his blooming relationship with Lisbon. He was in love, and making love and someone was in love and making love right back with him. It made everything else insignificant.  


The previous night, they had made love so tenderly and then showered quietly together, Jane seated in the plastic chair they'd bought with his leg hanging outside the tub, washing each other's backs. It was a quiet, familiar thing to do and not sexual, just caring, a couple's thing before turning in. Lying in bed, Lisbon had curled against him and handled his genitals, coddling them together in her hand. Sometimes she brushed her thumb across the three lobes, not to arouse him, but almost to soothe herself as a child would with a favorite toy. Handling them, knowing every surface, loving them. He found it relaxed him, too, when she was in this dreamy mood. Teresa's special massage, a whispering touch that lulled him to sleep with her. If she had been seeking to arouse him, there would have been no mistaking it.  


But this morning, he wasn't feeling so peaceful. Jane sat in the armchair, beating on his cast again, unable to distract himself from the itching. Lisbon was still dressed from bed, a long baggy tee shirt and no underwear. She covered her ears to drown out the tattoo of his discomfort. What he needed was a real distraction! Her body quickening at what she had in store for him, she pushed his fist from the cast and straddled the arms of the chair, hanging over his lap and open for the view he so loved to see.  


"Nnnnnhgh, what have we here?" Jane smiled under hooded eyes, keeping Lisbon's gaze but dipping his head, taking a long sniff, making a show of picking up the scent between her legs. "New soap? You smell like a mixture of chocolate and musk with a bass note of fresh raw meat and a top note of pure Lisbon slick! Good enough to eat, then? C'mere! I want some chocolate Lisbon nookie!" Eyes rolled up under closed lids, he pulled his head back, still drawing in her scent with another long inhalation through his nose.  


Lisbon giggled. She loved playful sex with Patrick, and he was in that mood. He didn't know she had a more serious intent. This was better for right now.  


He helped her bring her hips up, sliding her shoulders onto his lap and hanging her legs over the back of the chair. He caught her with his mouth, kissing her. He slurped as he tongued and sucked her, releasing sounds of satisfaction from them both. He pretended he was eating watermelon and spitting out the seeds, causing her to giggle uproariously, as if he was tickling her. His lips smacked when he let whatever he was sucking at the moment pop from his mouth. Lisbon wanted more and kept trying to push her clit to his mouth, but he would avoid her, teasing. Finally she captured him with her thighs and pressed hard.  


"Ow! Ow! Enough with the police hold, Agent Lisbon!"  


She loosened her grip a bit but didn't release him, instead pushing herself onto his mouth. "Hold my butt steady!"  


In words muffled by a mouthful of Lisbon, he teased, "Oh, do you want me to kiss your clit? Why didn't you say so?" He grabbed the rounds of her ass, and attacked her sex with everything soft in his mouth until she shook and nearly crowed.  


Sliding back down to the arms of the chair, her face still rosy, she nodded her head towards the table sitting next to it. "Open the drawer."  


Jane looked at her, curious, and did as she said. He found a little stockpile of condoms and a tube of lube. "What's this? Saving for a rainy day?"  


"Something special," she smiled cryptically. "Put a condom on."  


So, she wanted to play today. Good! "Lift up so I can pull my clothes off." He got his boxers to his knees where they dropped to the floor, and planted a smacking kiss on her lips before he sat back. Picking up a condom, he said, "You'll either have to put it on for me behind your back or you need to move to my knees so I can reach myself."  


His erect penis brushed along the base of her back and she made a show of raising up and letting the head trail against her creases as she moved behind it, settling with it poking up between her thighs. She put a hand around him. "I'll put it on. Hand it to me."  


This was clearly Lisbon's show. He tore open a packet and handed the condom to her. She turned the application of a condom into an act of seduction, seating it on his succulent head and then rolling it down the erect flesh as if she was applying new skin. His cock seemed to dance on its own in her hand. He couldn't help pushing as she slowly squeezed the condom into place.  


"Lube," she said like a surgeon to a nurse, and he slapped the tube into her hand. She smiled at him and slathered it on the outside of the condom. Jane was beginning to understand what she was about to do with him and the anticipation made him rigid with lust. She hadn't done this with him before. He hadn't even asked her for it.  


Lisbon gave him a teasing reproach. "If you swell any bigger, I'll have to abandon my plans for you, Patrick."  


The tone of her voice and the seductive way she used his first name only heightened his desire and his size.  


"Hold me steady."  


He put a hand on each side of her bottom and spread her wide, supporting her seat as she grabbed hold of him to guide him to the tender opening back there. He squeaked with anticipation and desire as he concentrated on making it easy for her.  


Sluicing herself with the lube, she lowered onto him a little at a time, up and down until he was fully seated in her. She was panting heavily, grunting a little as she shifted on him and then hummed in pleasure to feel him fill her body.  


"Ah! Lisbon! This feels so good, so good. It makes me feel wild. I want to come right now."  


"I know. Me, too." She fidgeted on him. "But I can't really move like this."  


Jane slouched down, keeping his hands under her hips. "I'll move you, just relax."  


He lifted her barely an inch, then let her drop, both of them arching and sounding the pleasure of it. He lifted her further and further each time and let her go, both of them getting used to the angle and how to manipulate it for their growing vigor. Lisbon wedged her feet on either side of his thighs on the chair cushion, and started to ride him slowly, as Jane thrust gently into her.  


"Oh, that's so nice, Jane. Just don't move more than that. I'm a little scared of this if I'm not in control of it."  


Jane let her have control and shifted his attention to her feminine flesh, wide open and slanted forward to his easy touch. Normally, he loved looking at this part of her, but just now he could barely concentrate over his need to release as Teresa gently rode his deeply embedded and compressed male flesh. He laid a finger heavily on her clitoris, letting the rocking movement of her hips flip it back and forth. When her voice sounded her orgasm, high calls as she ground and arched on his shivering length, he came, ringing her like a bell with his spasms.  


Lifting her carefully to separate them, he reached around her to remove the condom, listening for the rustle as it hit the wastepaper in the little trash can next to the chair. He settled Lisbon on top of his slouched form where she managed to find a comfortable snuggle spot and fell asleep listening to his heart thump in his chest. He crossed his arms over her back, anchoring her in his warmth, kissed her head and nodded off himself, fingertips playing in the ends of her dark hair.  


Jane awoke in the chair and heard Lisbon padding in another part of the room. The sounds she made told him that she was putting on music. He heard the first strains of a very familiar song that struck his heart with a most exquisite memory. He was dancing with Lisbon at a class reunion where a murder had taken place. It was the first time he had held her in his arms, close, relaxed and enjoying the moment-- the first really intimate, but chaste, contact she had ever wanted from him. So many years ago.  


Getting up, he caught Lisbon from behind and when she turned to him, he kissed her and took her into his arms, "More Than Words" filling the room with its beautiful melody and lyric. He held her close now, dancing as love built in his blood, relieved by the heat of a few tears as he nuzzled her hair, feeling the great gift of his life snuggle closer and hold him tighter.  


"I always think of this as our song, Lisbon."  


"It is. I always think of you when I hear it. Remember our first dance."  


"It was so romantic. Murder. A rip-roaring fight between classmates over festering grudges. And you in my arms in the muted light of a high school gym under a glitter ball."  


"Ahhhhh. You're such a romantic, Jane." She giggled and hugged him, then stood her foot on his cast to glide unevenly along with him to the music.  


The next day the cast was removed. Jane's lower leg was skinny and pale, scabby where the lack of air had damaged his skin. It would take awhile to rebuild its strength but he felt like a prisoner who had been set free, although one who had been instructed to use a cane for a couple weeks until the strength in his leg returned.  


They took a taxi to go out to eat that night because Jane wanted to be able to drink wine and celebrate with Lisbon. Dinner was quiet and intimate, desert divine and loaded with chocolate. Jane, pleasantly lit, was a caution and a delight, laughing easily, attentive and affectionate but not at all sloppy or slurring, given to rather intense public displays of affection.  


He wore a beautiful black suit, white shirt and shiny Italian leather shoes he had sent Lisbon to retrieve from his motel room since he still couldn't drive with his leg so weak. Lisbon could barely take her eyes from him and caught herself several times in reverie, watching him use his cane, so distinguished and handsome that it only added to his already inestimable charisma. She tried to imagine him with gray curls instead of yellow, more lines on his face, hooded eyes. Nothing she could imagine could take away his beauty, even in the trappings of age. She imagined herself the same way, at his side, a beautiful older couple still helplessly in love with each other. It warmed her.  


Jane noticed the pink flush on her skin and asked about it, but she demurred and spoke about the pleasures of being on a date together. He let it slide. His eyes were already filled with Lisbon in her beautiful black dress, scooped in front with her cross at her neck, the sea glass bracelet tinkling on her wrist and the black heels that tilted her pelvis forward into a sexy slant. He spent half the night plotting how to cup her mons when it jutted to the fore as she walked, but could never quite pull it off without cheapening her in public. That he would not do.  


However, Jane seemed to consider the back seat of the taxi a private enough stage for foreplay, teasing her with soft kisses and intimate touch on the way. Returning, he was bolder in the taxi. He pushed up her dress to run his hand the length of her thigh and slip a finger or two under the edge of her panties, but she wouldn't let him in. When she got a little chilly, he took off his jacket to cover her, then proceeded to dip into her bodice to bring a breast completely out to thumb it until she was squirming with cheeks afire. She retaliated by giving him a real pocket rocket, building it through his clothes until he told the taxi driver to step on it for an extra tip. There was no sense blaming Jane's behavior on the wine. Lisbon was sure he would have done the same stone cold sober.  


Part of Jane's ebullient mood was sparked by something new in his vest pocket, a token. The tech who removed the cast had cut it loose for him, and said, smiling, "I guess you want to keep this." It was a piece of his cast from the back that said, "TL and Princess" inside a heart. It actually brought a tear to his eye. He made such love to Lisbon that night that she did cry.  


"What was that, Jane?" she whispered as they lay in one another's arms, recovering.  


"You didn't like it?" He didn't want to tell her about his token. She had written it in secret and he wanted to keep it in secret. "What should I have done different?" he teased.  


She snorted. "Nothing. What we do . . . it's the best sex of my life."  


"You know why that is, don't you?"  


"Yes."  


"Tell me."  


"I'm not a child, Jane."  


"I know. I just want to hear it."  


"She looked right at him, green eyes shining. "Because I love you. And I trust you."  


"And?"  


"And because you love and trust me."  


"I love you, Teresa." He branded her with a searing kiss and she melted against him, heart pounding again.  


He decided to ask her for something that had been on his mind for a long time now. "Remember when you came over to my motel and washed my hair for me that night?"  


"Yes. I remember. You were very sweet."  


"Will you let me wash your hair?" The look in his eye was soft and pleading.  


"I think I'd love that."  


"It doesn't have to be with your clothes on like when I had my cast."  


She gave him a playful smirk. "Of course not."  


"You can even just take a bath and call me when you're ready."  


"Hmmmmm? You don't want to get in the tub with me?"  


"No. Not this time. I just want to wash your hair."  


When she called him into the bathroom, her hair was piled and fastened on top of her head with a butterfly clip.  


He smiled when he saw it and said, "Oh that's good. I forgot to tell you not to get your hair wet."  


He lowered the tub water a little bit and turned on the heat lamps in the ceiling. The scented bathwater filled the room with roses and Teresa looked like a pale pink rose, with freckles, floating in the water.  


"Turn this way . . ." He knelt at the side of the tub and she rested on his extended arm, protected from the water while he regulated its temperature. Taking the butterfly clip from her hair, he lowered her, slowly and carefully into the running water, wetting her tresses and then her scalp, using his hand to cup the water and keep it from getting into her face. She watched him concentrate on his task. Sometimes his eyes would catch hers and he would smile, flashing sea green light.  


It was a wonderful experience for Teresa, putting herself into his hands for this small task. He massaged the shampoo into her hair, his long graceful fingers revealing their strength in the pressure he applied to the muscles under her scalp. In no time she had relaxed totally into his care. He protected her face again when he rinsed her hair, looking into her eyes and smoothing it back until it was washed clean. She closed her eyes and drifted, limp, noticing only his hands and the water as they wove a quiet blanket of care. When he was done with everything, he raised her up with an arm under her shoulders and toweled her hair, wrapping it into an expert turban. He draped another towel around her shoulders and lifted her out of the tub.  


"Do you want to dry yourself, or me—"  


"You do it," she said. She wanted this coddling to last as long as possible. She even allowed him to blot her tush and her lady parts. The loving, gentle way he treated her stole her heart.  


"You should have children!" she blurted out. They both thought briefly of his lost Charlotte. Lisbon wondered, did he want more?  


"I will if you want to give them to me." There was nothing but love and desire in his eyes when he kissed her and ran his tongue across her lips. She parted them so that the tip would run along the wet inside.  


She imagined herself big with child, her breasts swollen with milk, and frowned. Until she thought how it would be his children in her belly, his children suckling at her breast, running around and driving them both crazy.  


Jane watched the changes in her face as she registered distaste, then love and finally, humor. She did want a family! He had never been sure, and they'd never talked about it. He wanted it again, and more than that, wanted it with her and to give her everything that she desired within his capability.  


"We need to find a bigger place, " she said.  


"And get married," Jane added, smiling into her kiss and watching as her big eyes took in his meaning.  


Lisbon leaned into his arms and raised her face to see the love in his eyes as he smiled at her.  


"You're such a traditional, romantic man, Patrick. I love you."  


"Is that a yes? You will marry me?"  


"Yes. I will marry you."  


The towel had become more of a shawl, slipping down Lisbon's back and draping the arm that held her tight as Jane pressed her naked body to his chest, plundering her mouth with his, trying to express the joy that sang in every cell. She was already getting him out of his clothes, desperate to join with him and seal the great promise they had just made to one another. Pulling her up to his waist, he slowly lowered her as she seated herself on him where they stood. They took each other right there, against the tiled wall of the bathroom, steeped in the scent of roses.  


"I love you, Teresa. I'll never stop loving you." This life, their life, his life, was going to be a good life.  



End file.
